Home again

Mrs. Paco and I went to my hometown of Albemarle, NC, mostly on what I would call a nostalgia trip. We visited two cemeteries - one near downtown New London, and one next to the primitive Baptist church where my father and paternal grandparents are buried - and prayed over those Pacos who have gone to their reward. The graveyard in New London, where some relatives on my mother's side are buried, revealed an "ornament" that I have seen occasionally in old cemeteries, including in one cemetery in Stanly County where many vintage Pacos rest  (it's on private land, and I don't even remember how to get there anymore).

These iron crosses, featuring the Stars & Bars in the center of the decoration, were placed on the plots of deceased veterans of the Confederate Army by the United Daughters of the Confederacy. This is not the last resting place of one of my relatives, I should point out, but the grave of one Franklin E. Reeves, born March 23, 1843, died January 28, 1924.

We also took advantage of the sunny weather to visit Morrow Mountain State Park. It is in the Uwharrie Mountains, one of the oldest ranges in the United States, formed around 500 million years ago. Originally rising to a maximum height of 20,000 feet, the wind and elements have whittled the Uwharries  down to barely more than tall hills. Those forested hills are beautiful, though, and still provide some lovely vistas.

And I finally got a chance to visit the haunted bridge on Booger Hollar Road, that crosses Big Bear Creek. There are several stories about ghosts in the area, but the one that stands out for me is the one featuring a girl who was driving a small wagon and team along this low-lying road sometime at the turn of the last century during a rain storm, and who died when the horses spooked and the wagon turned over in the creek. The girl supposedly broke her leg, and was trapped in the water and couldn't get loose; her cries for assistance went unanswered and she died, either from drowning or exposure, after a couple of days. They say on moonlit nights, you can still faintly hear her futile pleas for help.

Here's a picture of the creek...

...and here's a photo of the one-lane bridge over Big Bear Creek.

There are also tales of other spirits that prowl about the area; however, the place seemed extremely placid and unhaunted to me - but then, maybe, I'm insufficiently sensitive to ghostly presences (which suits me just fine). The country around is absolutely beautiful, hundreds of acres of farm land and forests.